Castaways
by emptyvessels
Summary: Fitz and Simmons are locked in a retail store overnight. Mostly pre-canon fluff inspired by the season six episode 'Castaways' of Dawson's Creek (from which it gets its name).


Unbeta'd and mostly written on little to no sleep, so alllll mistakes are mine.

I am so uncomfortable with referring to Fitz as Leo as of right now lol can ya tell. I so desperately need her to call him Leo on the show to make me finally feel okay with doing it myself.

Also I do not own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. or any of its characters. I do own the "imaginary" Multi Mart, but you could probably already tell that from the fact that it has the least original name imaginable.

* * *

The air outside was too cold for the thin layer of silk Jemma had chosen to don for the evening and she mentally cursed herself for not wearing a warmer coat. She crossed her arms and walked alongside Fitz in silence with a smile plastered on her face, listening to him ramble on excitedly about the night's events, the award they'd just won clutched tightly in his grip – a plaque from the Academy that recognized their contributions to the field of science. She wasn't sure if she'd ever seen him as happy as he was tonight.

"Recognition of Excellence, check! Next step, taking over the world!" He exclaimed giddily, pumping the award into the air, high off his own excitement. "This is staying in my room, just so you know."

Jemma laughed and playfully shoved into him as they neared the bus stop, where they waited for what felt like ages in the freezing cold for the last bus of the evening until Fitz finally decided to check the bus schedule and glance at his watch.

"Shit," he muttered. "We missed the last bus."

"No!" She replied, her hand shooting up to cover her mouth. Frustrated, she folded her arms across her chest. "Ugh, okay, well we'll just call for a ride then."

Fitz nodded and reached into his coat pocket to pull out his cell phone, only to find that the battery had died. "You've got to be freaking…" He groaned in frustration as he turned his phone to show Simmons the blank screen. "Please tell me yours has charge."

She winced. "I don't… have mine on me."

"How do you not have your cell phone on you?"

She extended her arms, pointing out what she was wearing. "Where would I keep it?"

He looked at her as if he were just noticing her attire for the first time all night – a knee-length, form-fitting number made of black silk and lace. Not a necessarily risqué fashion choice, but certainly different from anything he'd ever seen her wear before. He raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips.

"I don't know," he finally spoke, exasperated. "I figured maybe you had a purse on you or something!"

"When have you ever known me to carry a purse? I didn't feel like lugging one around all night. All I've got are these stupid excuses for coat pockets that are barely even big enough for the spare cash I brought along." She emphasized her point by shoving her hands into her pocket, half of her palms sticking out of the small space.

"When have I ever known you to wear dresses?" He shrugged. "I figured… special occasion, I don't know."

She narrowed her eyes at him, choosing to ignore the tone of his voice and focus on the matter at hand: how the hell they were going to get back to their dorms.

"So, obviously, no cab. Alright then. Let's think about this," she chewed on her bottom lip nervously as she thought.

Fitz observed their surroundings, scanning shop windows for any signs of activity in the hopes that they'd be able to walk in and ask to use a phone, but each store appeared to be closed up for the night. He sighed heavily in deep frustration.

As if on cue, both scientists looked up to see a Multi Mart across the highway that appeared to still be open, though the parking lot was nearly empty. They shared a nervous but hopeful glance as they hurried to the edge of the street and waited for the traffic to let up. Jemma grabbed on to his arm as they rushed to cross the road before the lights changed back.

They crossed the parking lot and found themselves outside of the entrance, stomping firmly on the ground when the automated doors wouldn't open. Their hopeful glances shifted to expressions of worry, especially as it began to drizzle, the promises of a rainstorm looming in the sky. Luckily, they managed to spot an employee out in the parking lot, finishing putting all of the shopping carts back in their place lined up in front of the stores entrance.

"Hey!" Simmons called out, her voice filled with as much desperation as she could muster in hopes of convincing the obviously frustrated teenager to help them. "We really need to use a phone. Do you mind…?"

The young boy stared at them as he walked towards the door and used an employee key to get it to open. "Ever heard of a cell phone?" He asked, his voice managing to sound snippy and indifferent at the same time.

Fitz and Simmons exchanged annoyed glances. "Battery's dead," Fitz explained. "Please? It'll only take a minute. We just need to call for a taxi."

Rolling his eyes, the reluctant teen held the door open for them and pointed in the direction of their telephone before disappearing into the employee break room, presumably to get ready to leave for the night.

"Right. You make the phone call. I'm just going to run to the bathroom. Back in a second!" Jemma said, leaving Fitz by the phone.

He picked up the receiver and his hand hovered over the keypad for a moment before he realized that not only did he not know the number for any taxi companies by heart, but he also couldn't recall what the number was to dial for information.

He dragged himself over to the aisle that carried magazines and newspapers, in hopes of finding a phonebook or any sort of information directory that could be of use. He spotted one, reaching for it when he heard the shuffling of feet and the sliding of automatic doors, and suddenly found himself standing in almost complete darkness.

He dropped the phonebook and ran to the front of the store, watching the last two employees walking briskly to their cars in the parking lot, hoods pulled tightly over their heads to protect themselves from the rain, which was pouring heavily now.

This is not happening right now.

Fitz banged his fist against the Plexiglas, shouting after them to turn back, but to no avail. They both drove off into the night, leaving them behind there.

"Fitz?" He heard Simmons' voice. "What's going on? I heard shouting. Why are all the lights off?" When he didn't respond immediately, she grew concerned. "Fitz?! You didn't leave me behind, did you?"

She found him standing by the door, head leaned against the cool glass, his eyes shut tight in frustration.

"This cannot be happening," he repeated aloud.

Jemma frowned, her stomach twisting in the realization that they, in fact, had been left behind.

"How is this possible? That boy just let us in…" she trailed off, making her statement sound more like a question.

Fitz shrugged and lifted his head. Their eyes met and it was evident to Jemma that he was more than angry enough for the both of them. As usual, she would have to be the one to remain calm if they had any hopes of resolving the situation.

"I didn't know any cab numbers and I forgot the number for information, so I-"

"411, Fitz!" she chimed in, cutting him off, scolding him for not being able to remember something so simple as three little digits.

"And if you had just waited to use the bathroom and stayed with me, you could have just told me what it was instead of me having to go look for a damn phonebook, which is probably when they walked over to the phone to check for us and just assumed we had left!" Fitz defended himself, crossing his arms and stomping his feet like a child.

"Oh, so it's my fault that we're stuck here then? Is that what you're saying?" She stepped closer to him, her face a mere inch or two away from his.

"No, obviously it's the fault of lazy costumer care, but you don't need to yell at me for not knowing the number for information!"

"Oh, I see, but it's totally fine for you to start yelling at me," she responded and soon the two of them were shouting over each other incomprehensibly.

A strike of lightning and the distant rumble of thunder snap them out of their fight and back into reality. They stand in silence for a moment, listening to the wind and rain pick up speed outside before finally deciding to go call for help.

-x-x-x-x

"I can't believe the police wouldn't help us," Fitz groaned as they sat on a display bed in the home accessories department.

Jemma sighed and flopped down next to him, leaning forward to rest her chin on her hand. "They didn't say they wouldn't help us. They just said with the storm picking up the way it is, two people trapped inside a perfectly safe facility filled with plenty of food and water and supplies aren't exactly at the top of their list of priorities."

"Still could have at called the manager for us to tell them to come get us out of here," he complained, staring at their award and the way it shimmered in the dim emergency light he managed to find the switch for.

She shrugged, taking the award from his hands and studying it for herself for the first time that night. "I suppose they've just got more important things to worry about. We'll be fine. Besides," she smiled and in attempt to lighten the mood, held out the award just as the presenter had earlier that evening. "'Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons for their joint contributions to the sciences – perhaps the most promising young scientists this Academy has ever seen!'" She quoted the words directly from memory. "This is still one of the greatest night of our lives."

Fitz rolled his eyes again, but couldn't suppress his urge to smile. She was, as usual, right.

She pushed herself off the bed and held out her hand to lift him up. "C'mon, don't worry so much," she urged. "We don't know how long we're going to be here. We might as well make the most of it."

-x-x-x-x

The first thing either of them did was switch into more comfortable clothing. Jemma found relief in a pair of blue and purple striped pajamas, while Fitz slipped out of the men's room wearing a ridiculous monkey onesie, equipped with a long narrow tail in the back and hooded ears.

"Really, Fitz?" Jemma asked, shaking her head in disbelief that he even managed to find such a thing.

She didn't even bother acknowledging the fact that he looked absolutely adorable. Because he didn't.

Not even a little bit.

He smiled and proudly pulled the hood over his head to complete the look, sauntering past her towards the toys department.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she called out as she followed his lead, "may I present to you the world's brightest young intellectual mind, Leo Fitz!"

He turned his head, that smug smile still painted on his face as he gave his tail a little twirl. They both laughed.

He stood before the shelf full of board games and then turned back to Simmons again. "Pick one," he instructed. "I'll go get us some snacks."

"But… open one of the games?" She asked, a tinge of worry in her tone. She couldn't bear the thought of tinkering with an item she had no intent in purchasing.

"We'll put everything back. Reseal all the labels," he reassured her. "'Sides, it's this establishment's fine employees that left us locked in here during a rainstorm, wasn't it? Least they could do is let us have some free refreshments." She nodded in agreement, but her eyes still carried the same nervous expression. He stepped towards her and rested his hands on her shoulders. "Don't worry so much." He grinned, using the same words she'd said to him just a few minutes before.

Fitz returned from the food court a few minutes later, carrying a tub of popcorn and a few boxes of candy, two large bottles of soda tucked underneath his arm. Simmons had set up both Scrabble and Operation on the floor, the plastic packaging set off to the side torn as neatly as possible in hopes that they could reseal them once they finished.

"Party time," Fitz said as sat down on the ground in front of her. They decided to play a couple of rounds of Operation first, shoveling handfuls of popcorn into their mouths between turns.

Three games of Operation and one and a half of Scrabble later, the two laid sprawled out on the floor of the department store, stomachs full of too much popcorn and candy.

"Well," Fitz spoke, cramming yet another piece of red licorice into his mouth despite his stomach and better judgment telling him not to. "What do we do now?"

"Hmmm," pondered Jemma. "Oh! We could use the sample makeup in the cosmetics department and you could let me give you a makeover!"

"I don't think so," Fitz laughed, dismissing the idea with a swat on his partner's shoulder. "Oh! Sock slide race!"

"Are you sure you need that kind of embarrassment? You've been having a pretty good night," she teased. She stood up and put both games back in their boxes.

"The only one who's going to be embarrassed is a certain naggy biochemist who has terrible taste in sleepwear."

She scoffed. "You're on."

Deciding that the finish line would be the end of the electronics department, the two stood side by side, counted to three, and set off on gliding across the smooth white tiled floors, Fitz in the lead until he found himself quickly losing balance in his monkey suit, landing firmly on his back with a thud. Jemma tried to skid to a stop to prevent crashing into him, but it all happened so fast and she wasn't quite quick enough – she tripped and tumbled over, falling over him.

"Ow," he groaned at the impact, pressing a hand to the back of his head.

She adjusted herself on top of him so that she was looking at his face and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry. I tried to stop. Are you alright?"

"Heh. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. I'll be fine," he chuckled, brushing off the pain. "I was in the lead before we fell, so technically I win."

"I don't think so, Leo. If you weren't so clumsy, I would have definitely won."

"That is not what would have happened." He was still all too aware of the closeness between their bodies, her chest pressed up against his own. He could swear he could feel her heart beating, but decided that it was probably just his own pounding harder and louder than usual. An image of Jemma in that little black dress crept into his mind and for a split moment, he pictured her in it now, lying on top of him just like this. He bit his bottom lip so hard he nearly drew blood and tried concentrating on the present moment, ignoring the tightening in his pants.

This monkey suit was a genius idea he mentally reprimanded himself.

"Um," he began, trying to point out the fact that she was still on top of him without actually pointing out the fact that she was still on top of him because, really, other than confusing, unwanted thoughts, he found himself surprisingly without anything to complain about.

She lifted herself off him, a slight blush coloring her face as she wrapped her arms around her knees and turned to look at him.

"So… Rematch?" She offered with even more pep in her voice than usual.

He shook his head and pushed himself off the ground so that his body mirrored hers.

"What, then? I'm not very tired and I'm not sure I fancy the idea of sleeping here anyway."

He shrugged and rested his head on his knees, studying her face intently as she glanced around the store and considered the possibilities.

"I suppose you are still opposed to the makeover idea?" She asked, fluttering her eyelids innocently as if to better convince him that this, of all ideas, was a good one.

He stared at her unflinchingly. "You couldn't get me drunk enough."

"Leeeeoooo," she pouted. "Pretty please? The prettiest of pleases? I'll wash it right off. Please?" She was begging at this point, but she really didn't care.

"Why?"

She shrugged. "Hmm. Well, I guess I've never really had been to a slumber party before, and this is the closest I'll probably ever get to one now being that we're pretty much adults now. And makeovers are just something you do at slumber parties, aren't they?"

"Wouldn't know, being a boy and all."

"You're a boy?!" Jemma gasped. "I thought you were just a really ugly girl."

He shot her a look to which she responded with a devilish grin. A lock of hair fell in front of her eyes and he found himself itching to lean over and brush it back behind her ears.

So the confusing thoughts thing was still happening. That was good to know.

"Yeah, well. Still a better looking girl than you are." A delayed comeback – the worst kind. Especially when it wasn't a good one to begin with. But he had to say something; the once comfortable silence was becoming too unbearable now with unwelcome thoughts of Jemma the cocktail dress, all bare legs and bare shoulders, touching him while he touched her back and he just couldn't fucking concentrate anymore.

He stood up and began walking, his little monkey tail swaying behind him as he moved.

"Are you coming?" he asked without turning back to look at her.

Confused, she stood and followed after him.

They wound up in cosmetics. Fitz leaned over the counter, resting his head on his hand. He would give her the slumber party she was robbed of as a child even if it meant he had to do it in drag.

"I am the best friend you'll ever have."

"Oh, Fitz," she beamed, excitedly picking up a disposable eye shadow brush. "I already know that."

As she began the application, with her hand placed gently on the side of his face and her chest just a few inches away from his face as she leaned in and concentrated on getting the look just right, Fitz was beginning to think that this was both the best and worst idea either of them had had all night.

"Almost done," she said as she swiped a bit of lipstick on his lips using her finger.

Just what was she trying to do to him, he wondered.

"Finished. And must I say, you were right. You are a much better looking girl than me."

He started laughing before he even saw his reflection, unable to hold it together once he looked in the mirror.

"Maybe I should change my name to Lea Fitz," he said, still focused on his reflection.

"Lea Fitz. Suits you," she smiled brightly, leaning over his shoulder to meet his gaze through the mirror. "And so does that shade of lipstick. I'm really quite jealous of how well you pull it off."

He shook his head in complete and utter disbelief at his present situation. Only for you, Jem. Only for you.

He had to get out of this makeup.

-x-x-x-x

Hours later, the two of them sat against a wall, reading the trashiest passages they could find in the seemingly endless supply of romance novels the book department offered.

"Enough of this," Fitz whined, stealing the book away and sliding it back onto the shelf. "If I have to hear one more ridiculous euphemism for the word penis, I might be forced to cut off my own."

Jemma laughed a bit harder than she intended to and watched him as he put all of the other books back onto the shelf, making faces at each novel's cover art.

"You know how they say, never judge a book by it's cover? Bullshit."

She laughed again, the name 'Nancy' on one of the books sticking out to her, reminding her of a classmate of theirs at the Academy.

"What do you think of Nancy Clarington?" She asked, her gaze fixed on the bold-printed name.

"Who?" Fitz wondered, completely perplexed at the sudden change of subject.

"Nancy Clarington. Ginger. Short. Huge blue eyes. In our seminar class."

"Oh, the leprechaun girl. What about her?"

Jemma snorted. "'The leprechaun girl?'"

"Is that not what everyone calls her? She looks like a leprechaun," he shrugged. "What about her?"

"She likes you," she said, immediately feeling as though she shouldn't have said anything. It was odd, considering she and Nancy were barely even friends, and she doubted Nancy even cared whether Fitz knew or not, what with the ten thousand questions she attacked Jemma with about him just earlier that week.

"What? How do you know?"

"She practically told me. She walked up to me in the dorms the other day and wanted to know if we were… you know, together… and I told her no, and she proceeded to ask me countless questions about your interests and hobbies and pretty much any bit of trivia she could think of."

Fitz stared off into space for a moment, trying to wrap his head around the absurd idea of a girl actually being interested him while simultaneously trying to get past the idea that this girl had to be someone has obnoxious and pretentious as the Leprechaun.

"She likes me?" he asked, his eyes meeting hers.

"Aw, come on! As if that's so hard to believe."

He shrugged and shook his head, shifting his attention back into space.

"Should I give her the okay to make a move?" Jemma winked. Fitz made a face.

"Leo," she spoke, moving on, "I understand you're not interested, but… you don't really think it's that hard to believe someone could be interested in you that way, do you?"

"I don't want to talk about the Leprechaun anymore."

"I'm not talking about Nancy. I mean in general." Silence was the only reply she received. "It's not ridiculous, you know. The idea of someone fancying you. I can tell you, since I've known you, many girls have. I don't want you to ever feel that way about yourself."

He tried to conceal his blush, but failed miserably. "Thanks, Jemma." Though he was grateful for the compliment and touched by the sentiment, he felt uncomfortable with the atmosphere the conversation created. It was the same feeling he'd been trying to shake off all night, the all-consuming confusion he couldn't seem to find an escape from no matter what he tried.

-x-x-x-x

Above them, the rain still pounded violently on the roof, though it seemed as though the wind had calmed down for the time being.

She took a break from flipping through the newest copy of National Geographic and looked at over Fitz, who was sound asleep on top of a sleeping bag he'd snatched from outdoors supply, all snug in his monkey onesie. For the first time all night in spite of herself, she felt terribly exhausted.

She closed the magazine and snuggled up next to Fitz on the sleeping bag. Surely he wouldn't mind sharing. She brushed her hand over his torso, mentally noting how the plush softness of the fabric felt in contrast to the firmness of his chest beneath it. Sleepily, she pressed herself into him, planted a soft kiss on the underside of his jaw line and drifted off to sleep, smiling as he unconsciously wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her in closer to his warmth.

-x-x-x-x

They were both woken hours later by the sound of heavy footsteps and the unforgiving light that emitted from the morning sun. At least the rain had cleared up.

Fitz looked down at the sleepy girl in his arms and wondered when that happened. They exchanged tired smiles and groggy 'good mornings,' both completely content with not moving at all.

Fate, as they say, had other pans.

"Hey, are you the two who were locked in here all night?" a heavyset middle-aged man with thick sideburns asked. The tag on his neatly ironed dark uniform shirt read SECURITY.

They both nodded and sat up, reluctantly rolling off the sleeping bag.

"Sorry we didn't get to you sooner. The storm got pretty wild out there and the whole damn town was put on a flood watch. Figured you two were safe here considering this building being at the top of a hill and all. Looks like you were just fine, too," he eyed them knowingly and leaned down to help them roll up the camping gear. "Alright, let's put all this crap away and clean up those food wrappers over there. We'll pretend like those don't exist and talk management into letting you keep those pajamas free of charge. I'm Laurence, by the way."

"Oh, no-" Jemma began, but Laurence cut her off.

"I don't want to hear it. They're definitely not going to want those back after you've worn 'em all night, and it would be the least they could do for the inconvenience you had to suffer at the hands of their own neglectful employees."

It was clear that Laurence made up his own rules here, so the two of them followed his lead and gathered their personal belongings, slipping into the clothes they'd worn the night before, the pajamas they were receiving as consolation gifts folded neatly into a shopping bag.

Fitz fiddled with their award again as they sat in the back of the taxi cab that was – finally – taking them back to the Academy.

"So, what do you say? Joint custody? Alternating weeks in my room and yours?" he suggested.

Jemma tossed her head back in laughter, agreeing to the arrangement in spite of its silliness. "Yes, of course."

"Until we get our own lab together or something. Then it can stay there."

She grinned a toothy grin and placed her hand over his, giving it a lighthearted, gentle squeeze. "Sounds like a plan to me, Lea Fitz."

* * *

Hope you enjoyed it!


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